“Say the word temple. Say it quietly and reverently. Say it over and over again. Temple. Temple. Temple. Add the word holy. Holy Temple. And you say it as though it were capitalized, no matter where it appears in the sentence.
Temple. One other word is equal in importance to a Latter-day Saint. Home. Put the words holy temple and home together, and you have described what a temple is. The house of the Lord!” – Elder Boyd K. Packer Ensign August 1993
How many of you have been to a temple? Have you felt it’s special Spirit there? How do you feel when you see a picture of the temple? Do you feel happy? Do you feel peace?
We sing the song, I Love to See the Temple, in Primary. Do you sing it when you drive by a temple? The temple can bring peace to our minds and hearts and happiness to our souls.
Talk Source:
A lovely young lady told the following story at a stake conference. She said, “I am a convert from upstate New York. My parents wanted their children to have eternal marriages. There were no Latter-day Saint members to marry in our little branch, so our family moved to Utah.
“Eventually I found myself a husband. He was the president of the local motorcycle club and wore a black leather jacket and motorcycle boots. We rode on motorcycles together—perhaps not what my mother had hoped, but by that time I had wandered from the Church.
“We moved into a house. Often our friends would gather there. I’m afraid our neighbors were quite uncomfortable with us. At least one neighbor took her children into her house when we were roaming about.
“But do you know what our neighbors did? They mowed our lawn because we didn’t have a mower. They brought flowers when one of us was sick, and quite often they brought food and fixed things up. Our little daughter was included in the activities of the other children in the neighborhood and was even given a party on her birthday. When we tried to thank our neighbors, they just said, ‘Well, we all like to help each other.’ They made us feel welcome there.
“About ten months later, we traded our black leather jackets and motorcycle boots for the white clothing and slippers of the temple. As we knelt across the altar from each other and looked around that room, there were our neighbors, those who had been mowing our lawn and making things better for us.”
A remarkable business leader and teacher of Christianity in New York City has said many wonderful things about our members. He observed, “One of the most remarkable characteristics of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that you … concentrate upon doing that which you believe Jesus wants you to do.”
How do we do what Jesus wants us to do? How do we say thank you for the Atonement? How do we state gratitude for His teachings and for the ordinances and covenants of the temple? We do it by loving God, by loving our neighbor, and by living the commandments.
Talk Source:
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. (Matt. 22:39.)
One morning while the Prophet Joseph Smith was visiting with a group of men in front of his house in Nauvoo, a man came up and reported that the house of a poor brother who lived some distance from town had burned down the night before.
All of the men said they felt sorry for the man. But the Prophet put his hand into his pocket, took out some money, and said, “I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars. How much do you feel sorry?”
Love your enemies … that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven. (Matt. 5:44–45.)
It seemed impossible for Pat and Peggy to make any friends in the strange big city where they had just moved.
One night Father noticed their sadness. “Let’s have a party,” he suggested.
At first Pat and Peggy were delighted. They talked excitedly of ice cream and cake and big red balloons, but then they stopped. “Who can we invite to a party?” they cried. “We don’t have any friends.”
Father’s eyes twinkled as he answered, “Oh, we won’t worry about inviting friends right now. Let’s have an Enemy Party. We’ll just invite all those unfriendly boys and girls in your class at school and see what happens.”
That is exactly what Pat and Peggy did. Almost everyone came who was invited, and when they left, they all said it was the best party they’d ever attended.
Even though everyone had a wonderful time, Pat and Peggy never had another Enemy Party. They no longer knew anyone to invite, because suddenly they had only friends at the new school!
Love one another, as I have loved you. (John 15:12.)
The life of Jesus was an example of love. Not only did He teach men to love our Heavenly Father and each other, but He was always a perfect example of what He taught.
On the Thursday before Easter, Jesus met with His disciples in an upper room of a house in Jerusalem. There they ate their last meal together, a meal that has become known throughout the ages as the Last Supper.
After eating, Jesus left the table, took a basin of water, and bathed the feet of those who were with Him. When one of the disciples asked why Jesus washed their feet, Jesus explained that the master is no greater than the servant in the kingdom of God.
Then Jesus broke bread and poured drink. He blessed both and passed them to the others. This was the beginning of the passing of the holy sacrament.
The disciples of Jesus were sad, for as the evening went on, Jesus told them He would soon leave them. In a quiet, loving voice, He said, Little children, yet a little while I am with you.
A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.
By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another. (John 13:33–35.)
Since that time many have accepted the invitation of Jesus, “Come, follow me.”
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. (Matt. 22:39.)
“Happy birthday, Heber!” exclaimed his mother as she handed him the most beautiful coat he had ever seen. He hugged it close and his eyes were bright with happiness. He knew how difficult it had been for his mother to make it, and he could hardly wait to go out in the cold and feel its warmth around him.
One day as Heber was hurrying on an errand, he saw a boy in a thin sweater shivering with cold. As he hurried by, the boy looked at Heber’s coat with such longing that, almost before he knew what he was doing, Heber stopped, took off his new coat, and gave it to the boy.
When Heber’s mother saw her son wearing his old coat instead of the new one, she asked what he had done with his lovely new overcoat.
“Oh, Mother,” Heber J. Grant explained, “I saw a boy who needed it lots worse than I, so I gave it to him.”
If ye love me, keep my commandments. (John 14:15.)
“We’d like you to be our regular pitcher this year, David,” the coach said at the beginning of the baseball season. “But you’ll have to play on Sunday sometimes.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” David replied.
That night David said a special prayer and asked for help to have the courage to do what he knew was right.
The next day he told the coach he had decided not to play ball on Sunday. “I guess I’ll just have to be a relief pitcher,” he said.
Several weeks went by. David tried not to think about his team playing ball each Sunday while he went to church with his family.
One night after practice the coach called the boys together. “Even though David doesn’t feel he can play ball on Sundays,” he said, “I’d like him to be our regular pitcher. If you agree, we can have a relief pitcher for our Sunday games.”
There was a moment of silence. “How about it?” the coach asked the boys.
David could hardly breathe as he looked at his friends. They were quiet for only a minute, and then every team member enthusiastically approved the coach’s relief pitcher plan.
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13.)
A little girl was critically ill. She needed a special kind of blood for a transfusion to save her life.
Her brother had the same type of blood. The doctors asked him if he would be willing to give his blood so his sister might live. Without hesitating, the young boy answered, “Sure!”
After the blood transfusion was completed, the brother turned to the doctor and asked softly, “Now, sir, when will I die?”
It took only a moment for the doctor to realize the young boy had thought that giving blood to his sister would kill him. But he was willing to die for her.
Talk Source:
Vincent Poulaert (11) did not always know that Jesus Christ is the Savior, that He and Heavenly Father love him, and that his prayers would be answered. But he knows it now.
Early each morning the Poulaert family reads the scriptures together. Last year they were reading from the Book of Mormon. One day they read about Jesus Christ calling the little children to Him. Sister Poulaert loves this passage of scripture and asked her children if they each had a testimony of Jesus Christ. Everyone said yes—except Vincent. “I was pleased that Vincent would be so honest,” Sister Poulaert said, “but I was concerned also. I asked him if he knew how to get a testimony, and he said he did.”
Some of Vincent’s family teased him about not having a testimony. That helped him decide to do all that he could to learn if Jesus Christ was the Savior. During the next week he studied scriptures about Jesus Christ and prayed about what he had read. The following Sunday his family noticed that he wasn’t eating. They asked him if anything was wrong.
“No,” he said. “Today I’m fasting and praying for a testimony.” It was hard for Vincent to fast all day, but he did it. That afternoon, with tears in his eyes, he told his mother that he now knew that Jesus Christ was the Savior and his Friend.
That testimony and the knowledge that prayers are heard and answered helped Vincent on another day. His brother Gaetan (13) wanted to go out into the backyard. He thought that the plate-glass back door was open, and ran through it, shattering the glass. The broken glass severely cut the nerves and arteries in both his arms. His sisters Sandra (19) and Sonia (17) were home. They quickly called for an ambulance and put pressure on Gaetan’s arteries to slow the bleeding.
Just then Vincent, Sophie (9), and Samantha (5) walked into the house. When they saw all the blood and broken glass, they were scared and started to cry. Vincent realized that his older sisters were doing all that could be done for Gaetan, so he led Sophie and Samantha upstairs and out of the way. “We were afraid that Gaetan would die,” Vincent said, “so we huddled together and prayed for him. After the prayer, we all felt much better, and I knew that everything would be OK.”
The ambulance and Sister Poulaert soon arrived. Gaetan was rushed to the hospital. Brother Poulaert was there and gave his son a priesthood blessing, after which Gaetan felt much better. After four hours of microsurgery to repair the nerves and arteries in his arms and hands and four days in the hospital, Gaetan was able to go home.
Vincent Poulaert and his family have learned that just as the Savior called on His Father for strength in difficult times, they can, too. They know and are grateful that Heavenly Father hears and answers their prayers.
Talk Source:
Eleven-year-old Rebecca stared out the bus window but didn’t really see the houses passing by. The after-school bus commotion raged around her but didn’t interrupt her troubled thoughts. If I don’t get an A on the final history report, I won’t get an A in history. That means no honor roll. It’s not fair. I’ve worked hard all year long to get on the honor roll, and now, all because of this stupid assignment, I might not make it this last quarter. History, yuck! The bus lurched to a stop but couldn’t jolt Rebecca’s thoughts from her history assignment. I have only a week to write about someone who made a contribution to the United States’ growth and progress. It would be simple if Mrs. Langley would just let us write about someone famous, but no, it has to be about some unfamous dead person. Dead person—of course! The Woman of the Dead! Rebecca smiled as she worked out a plan. In a few minutes she was hurrying up the front walk of a small brick house. “The Woman of the Dead,” she chuckled as she rang the door bell. That’s what the kids called her aunt because it seemed like all she ever talked about was “the dead.” Aunt Hattie spent all her time doing family history for herself and for others. Aunt Hattie’s wrinkled face lit up with a big smile when she saw Rebecca at the door. “Come in, come in,” she urged. As always, stray curls were poking up here and there. A pencil nestled above one ear. Bifocals were perched on her long straight nose. Her eyes danced as she led Rebecca into the living room. “Sit down and tell me what brings you here.” “Aunt Hattie, I got an awesome history assignment today that I thought you might be able to help me with.” As she explained her assignment, Aunt Hattie listened, smiled, and nodded. “Sounds like quite a task. Do you have any ideas whom you would like to write about?” “None. I sort of hoped that you could help me find someone.” “How about someone in our own family?” “We don’t have anyone in our family that did anything great or important—do we?” Rebecca asked sheepishly, realizing that she knew very little about her own family’s history. “Well, let’s see what we can find.” Aunt Hattie chuckled again as she moved quickly to her computer. “Now, the first thing we need to do is pull up your pedigree chart.” “Pedigree chart?” asked Rebecca, sitting next to Aunt Hattie and looking at the computer screen. “A pedigree chart is a chart of your family tree. But it starts with you, instead of your ancestors, and goes backward with names, dates of births, marriages, and deaths. See, here’s your mother’s chart.” Aunt Hattie pointed to the screen. Rebecca saw “Mary Helen Farmer Hughes” on the screen with other names and dates. “Do you have everyone’s pedigree chart right here in your house?” Aunt Hattie laughed. “Almost everyone who’s ever taken my family history class—which is about everyone in town!—has been good enough to share what he’s found with me. Now let’s see whom we have that might be of interest for your report. How far back do you want to go?” “Way back, I guess. Was there anyone in our family here before the Revolutionary War?” “Your earliest ancestor that we have record of came to America about 1750 from Germany—” “Germany! I didn’t know that!” Rebecca peered closer at the screen. “This is like a time machine!” she exclaimed as Aunt Hattie scrolled down the computer screen. “Wait, I think I passed a good one for you,” Aunt Hattie said, scrolling back up the screen and pointing to a name. “Gideon Burdick was General George Washington’s drummer boy in the Revolutionary War.” “My great-great-whatever-grandfather, knew George Washington?” “Yes, but there’s more to Gideon Burdick’s story. And his daughter, Rebecca Burdick Winters, has an interesting story of her own. In fact, I believe that you were named after your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Rebecca Burdick Winters.” “Tell me about her.” “Well now, I’d hate to give you any wrong information, especially since this is a school assignment. But if you’re free Saturday morning, maybe we can take a trip to the Family History Library right here in Salt Lake City to do some research,” Aunt Hattie suggested. “Wow, I can’t believe it—I actually have some neat ancestors!” On Saturday morning Rebecca and Aunt Hattie went to the Family History Library across the street from Temple Square. “Where do we start?” Rebecca asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the rows of equipment and books in the first room they entered. “Each person whom the library has information about is listed by name in the Library Catalog here,” Aunt Hattie said, walking to a microfiche file. “You look in it for the person’s last name.” “I want to start with Gideon Burdick,” Rebecca told her. “Here he is. ‘Gideon Burdick, born 6 November 1762, Died 5 April 1846,’ ” she read. “Look! It says that there’s a book called The Descendants of Robert Burdick of Rhode Island. Gideon must be in this book, right?” Aunt Hattie smiled and nodded. “And since Rebecca Burdick Winters is Gideon’s daughter, she should be in the book too.” It only took a few minutes to find the book. It felt strange but wonderful to be holding part of her very own family’s history in her hands. She quickly found a place to sit down and work. “I’ll let you see what you can find,” said Aunt Hattie. “I have some work to do too. I’ll be back in a bit.” Rebecca opened the book, and on page 133 she found the name of Gideon Burdick and began to read: “Gideon Burdick possessed qualities which endeared him to his family and friends. It is told of him that one day he went into the fields to labor and hung his coat upon a fence post. By night he found a little bird had built its nest in the sleeve. Rather than disturb the nest he left the coat there until the young were hatched and able to leave.” Suddenly many-great-grandfather Gideon became a real person to Rebecca—someone she liked. But although the page on Gideon was interesting, it didn’t say anything about his being General Washington’s drummer boy. There has to be more, Rebecca thought, looking up from the book. She couldn’t see Aunt Hattie to ask for more help. I’ll just go on to Rebecca Burdick Winters till Aunt Hattie comes back. As she read, a quiet, peaceful, spiritual feeling filled her. Rebecca Burdick Winters and her husband, Hiram, had been the caretakers of the Kirtland Temple and the temple grounds. They had known the Prophet Joseph Smith well. Rebecca had taken care of the temple and its grounds while Hiram went on a mission to New York in 1835. She had five children at the time. The Winters family suffered persecution and great hardships because of their faithfulness to the Church. “Find anything interesting?” Aunt Hattie asked, sitting down across from Rebecca. “I can’t believe it. I had no idea that I was named for such a strong and courageous woman. I wish I could find out more about her.” “And Gideon? Did you find out all you need to know about him?” “No. The book didn’t say anything about his being a drummer boy. Where can I find out about that?” asked Rebecca. “Goodness! It sounds as if you are getting hooked on the dead,” chuckled Aunt Hattie. “It seems to me that there was a newspaper article on Rebecca. Let’s see what we can find under Salt Lake City in the Locality File.” She showed Rebecca the Locality File and explained how to use it. “I’ll leave you to your search now. Here are some quarters to photocopy anything you might want. I’ll be back in a while.” In the Locality File, Rebecca found that Rebecca Burdick Winters had an article written about her in the July 19, 1958, Deseret News. It was on a microfilm and was titled Lonely Grave of a Pioneer Mother. Reading it, she learned that in August 1852, Rebecca Winters and her family were traveling by wagon train to Salt Lake City. When deadly cholera invaded the wagon train outside Scotts Bluff, Nebraska, Rebecca helped care for the sick, and she watched her friends die until she herself was stricken with it and died. As the family prepared to bury Rebecca’s body, a band of starving Indians rode into the camp, demanding food. When told that there was no food to spare, they became desperate and threatened to kill the pioneers. Hiram Winters explained to the Indians that there was a terrible sickness among the wagon train. When the Indians failed to believe him, he removed the blanket from Rebecca’s body. The Indians quickly fled, leaving the pioneers to bury their dead in peace. Rebecca’s lonely grave was marked only by an old metal wagon tire inscribed Rebecca Burdick Winters, Age 50. Years later a survey party for a railroad discovered the wagon tire that marked the grave. The railroad track was to have gone over it, but the officials decided to reroute it around the grave of the brave pioneer mother. “Did you find enough material to write your report?” asked Aunt Hattie, sitting down as Rebecca finished the article. Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes, but not on Gideon. I’m going to make photocopies of all this information and write on Rebecca Burdick Winters. I think she contributed a lot to the United States’ growth and progress.” Rebecca was hard at work on her paper that night when Aunt Hattie rushed in. “I have some more information for you. I’ve been writing to a cousin in Ogden, Utah, to see if she had any family history to share—and by the way, now that you’re hooked yourself, on family history, the first thing you should do is write to your older relatives on both sides of your family for whatever help they can give you. Anyway, Cousin Myrna sent me a copy of a June 30, 1975, Ogden Standard Examiner article that tells about Gideon Burdick being the drummer boy, and even mentions his daughter Rebecca. Here.” As she took the papers that Aunt Hattie handed to her, Drummer of 1776 jumped out at her. Rebecca’s heart started to pound as she read that Gideon Burdick had indeed been the fourteen-year-old drummer boy who accompanied General George Washington on his historic trip across the Delaware River on Christmas Night, 1776: “The muffled sounds of Burdick’s drum encouraged the soldiers through the snow and sleet to the ice-bound Delaware River. “Washington and his men won the struggle with the icy currents of the Delaware, defeated the enemy and turned the tide of the American Revolution. The drummer boy’s drum was no longer muffled as he beat out a signal of victory. “Gideon Burdick’s memory has been immortalized with the issue of the new [1976] 25 cent piece by the U.S. Mint.” The article went on to tell about Gideon and his family. Then Rebecca found a paragraph about Rebecca Burdick Winters. It said that in 1902 her descendants, in loving memory, erected a monument made of Salt Lake granite beside Rebecca’s grave. In 1964 a national patriotic organization erected another monument by the grave, naming Rebecca Burdick Winters “The Pioneer Mother of America.” “Wow! Thanks, Aunt Hattie!” Rebecca could hardly wait to turn her paper in. Mrs. Langley was so pleased with Rebecca’s report that she read it to the class. “Pioneers such as Rebecca Burdick Winters,” she told them, “were among the courageous people who helped the country expand in the West.” Rebecca could hardly wait to show her A+ honor-roll paper to Aunt Hattie.
Talk Source:
I skipped up the dusty drive, past the gray stone houses nestled in bright purple blossoms, and into the open doorway.
Mother pushed back her damp hair and set a bucket of muddy water down. It was Monday, the day she washed the walls and rinsed away the dirt that blew in with the winds.
Monday was also important because of family home evening. My brothers, Chris and Trenton, and I (my name is Laura) always looked forward to it. Tonight, however, was going to be extra special because we were going to see the prophet!
My family lives in a country far from America. Each year, when the prophet speaks to members of the Church during general conference, we have to wait for a video tape of his message. Today that video tape had finally arrived!
Because there are only a few Church members in our area, we take turns holding Sabbath services in each other’s homes. Mom has been teaching us children about prophets and their callings from God. She told us that general conference is very important because that’s a major time when our prophet tells us what Heavenly Father and Jesus want us to do.
Dad put the video into the machine and turned off the light. I fixed my eyes on the fuzzy screen. Suddenly a clear picture formed, and the familiar voices of the Tabernacle Choir filled the room. Then the cameras focused on President Benson as he made his way to the stand.
Mom had suggested that we find one thing the prophet wanted us to do and then work on it the following week. I listened carefully to every word. He seemed to be looking straight at me when he said:
“The Book of Mormon is the instrument that God designed to ‘sweep the earth as with a flood. …’* God will hold us accountable if we do not now move the Book of Mormon in a monumental way. … The time is now! You must help with this burden and with this blessing which He has placed on the whole Church, even all the children of Zion.”**
That’s it! I thought. That’s what we ought to choose to work on this week. We should share the Book of Mormon! Then I remembered. My friends spoke another language. The only copy of the Book of Mormon I had was my own precious one given to me at my baptism. And it was in English.
“Well,” Dad said after the video was over, “let’s talk about what President Benson has asked us to do. What did you learn, Laura?”
“I learned how important it is for us to share the Book of Mormon with the people here. But how can I?” I wailed, explaining my problem.
Dad thought a moment. Then he said, “Remember when Nephi was commanded to go and get the brass plates from Laban? That appeared to be an impossible task. But Nephi had faith. Remember what he said in 1 Nephi 3:7 [1 Ne. 3:7]: ‘I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.’ I think that there is a way we can keep this commandment to share the Book of Mormon.”
Dad had our full attention. “How?” we all asked.
“Well, our friends can’t read the Book of Mormon at this time, but they can read us.”
“Huh?” My brothers and I looked at each other with puzzled faces.
Dad explained. “We can tell people what the Book of Mormon teaches through our actions. For example, if I wanted our neighbor to learn about King Benjamin’s words on serving our fellowman, I would help him clean and trim his yard, pick up any garbage, care for his home when he is sick or away, and invite him into our home. He may not actually read the words, but he would read my actions and learn about service and love.”
“Oh, I see!” I exclaimed, jumping off the couch. “We can all do that!”
By the time family home evening was over, we had each committed ourselves to sharing one thing about the Book of Mormon through our actions that week.
The following Monday, when I was asked to tell about what I did, I admitted, “It was harder than I thought it would be. I picked Moroni 7:45, 47 [Moro. 7:45, 47], where he talks about charity. He says, ‘And charity suffereth long, and is kind, … and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in truth. … Charity is the pure love of Christ.’
“You see, there’s a girl at school who always sits by herself. She doesn’t talk very well, and she walks with a limp. I’ve wanted to say hi to her, but I’ve been afraid that the other kids might laugh at me. Well, at recess on Wednesday, I was playing with my friends when I saw Kara sitting on the stump of an old tree, watching us. I tried not to think about her. I told myself that she probably couldn’t play, anyway, with a bad foot.
“At lunchtime I saw her again, eating alone. As I followed my friends to a table, I remembered what I had promised to do, to share through my actions Moroni’s words about love. I began thinking about how I felt when I first moved here. I didn’t have any friends, I didn’t know the language, and I was lonely and afraid. Maybe Kara felt that way too. I was scared, but I got up from my table and went over and sat down by Kara.
“And you know what? I found out that Kara can run and play, even with a bad foot. In fact, she’s faster than a lot of us. And you know what else? I think the other girls learned about charity too. By the end of the week, we were all playing, eating, and laughing together. You were right, Dad. You can share the Book of Mormon through your actions.”
Talk Source:
I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded (1 Ne. 3:7).
My name is William Paul McCallister, but everyone calls me Willy. I’m ten years old, and last year my parents decided that our family would go to general conference in Salt Lake City.
We live in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, so it was a long drive for us. Then we had to stand in line a long time—more than two hours—so that we could sit in the Tabernacle for the Saturday morning session. But it was all worth it. When I saw President Benson, I got a swelling in my chest, and my eyes got all watery, and I knew that he really was a prophet of God. I knew, too, that I should listen and do what he said because he spoke for Heavenly Father.
President Benson looked all around, then started to speak. He said that it was time for the earth to be flooded with the Book of Mormon and that it was the responsibility of every member to help.
Later, as we were driving home, our family talked about what we could do to follow the prophet. Mom suggested that we give copies of the Book of Mormon to the missionaries, with our pictures and testimonies inside. We did that the year before, and it was fun, but we didn’t hear from any of the people that got them.
Dad suggested that we give copies of it to some of our friends so that we would know the people who got them.
I thought about it a lot. There are so many people in the world! If I gave a Book of Mormon to someone, it would be like adding one little drop in a whole ocean of people. But I decided that lots of drops added together could flood the earth.
When we got home, I told Mom that I wanted to give a Book of Mormon to someone. She got me one, and I put my picture and my testimony inside it. I wrote that I knew that the Book of Mormon was true because Joseph Smith was a real prophet of God. I said that anyone who read the Book of Mormon and really wanted to know if it was true could pray and ask God, and the Spirit would let him know that it is true. Finally I signed my name. After I finished, I felt kind of scared because I really didn’t know who I was going to give it to.
The next day I put the Book of Mormon in my backpack and took it to school. I guess I expected somebody to just come up and ask me for it, but nobody did.
When I got home, Mom knew that I was discouraged. She said that if I prayed about it, Heavenly Father would help me to know whom to give the Book of Mormon to. So I prayed really hard. I told Heavenly Father that I would do whatever He wanted me to if He would just show me what to do. After I finished, I still didn’t know who to give the Book of Mormon to, but I knew that Heavenly Father was going to help me. I sure didn’t expect things to turn out like they did, though!
In the morning I put the book in my backpack again. During recess, I took it out and set it on my knees. I looked at it for a while, then opened it to my favorite scripture: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” [1 Ne. 3:7]. Right then I surely needed the Lord to provide a way for me to give that Book of Mormon to someone.
Suddenly a shadow fell across my book, and I looked up at a kid standing there. I had seen him lots of times before, but I didn’t know his name.
“What’re you reading?” he asked.
“The Book of Mormon.”
“Oh. You must be a Mormon,” he said. “My mother says that Mormons are pretty OK people, although she doesn’t believe that any church is the true church.”
“Well”—I hesitated, hoping that the Holy Ghost would help me know what to say—“that’s just because she doesn’t know about our church. We have a real prophet, and Jesus Christ is the head of the Church. He tells the prophet what to say to us.”
“Really? My mother says that even if there is a God, no one can really know for sure, because He doesn’t talk to people anymore.”
I took a deep breath and prayed for more help. “Don’t you think that God would want you to know that He exists and to know what He wants you to do?”
“I guess so.”
“A prophet tells people what God wants them to do,” I said.
“So what does your prophet tell you?” he asked.
I could tell that he didn’t believe me. I prayed really hard for help. “He says that we should study the Book of Mormon because it’s an inspired book of scripture and that a person can get close to God by reading it.”
“Is that what you’re reading?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you want to see it?”
“Sure.”
I handed him my Book of Mormon.
“I have one question,” he said. “How do you know that someone isn’t just trying to fool you with all that stuff about God and real prophets, like my mother says?”
“I’ll show you.” I was getting really excited. I reached over and turned to Moroni 10:4. When I found it, I read out loud:
“ ‘And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.’ See,” I said, “you don’t have to take my word for it. If you pray about it, you can find out for yourself if it’s true, because God will tell you. But you have to read it first.”
The boy looked at the scripture again and read it himself. Then he looked at me. “I wonder what my mother would say about this.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe you could ask her. You can have this Book of Mormon. Then she can read it, too, and find out if it’s true.”
Just then the bell rang, and he left with my Book of Mormon under his arm. I was feeling pretty happy as I went back inside the school. Then I realized that I still didn’t know his name and that if they asked me, I would have to tell Mom and Dad that I didn’t know who had gotten my Book of Mormon.
Then a couple of weeks later, the boy found me during recess and said that his name was Chris Brown and that his mother wanted to know more about the Church. That was six weeks ago. Now we’re friends, and tomorrow he and his whole family are being baptized.
I have another Book of Mormon in my backpack now.
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(Adapted from an October 1990 general conference address. See Ensign, November 1990, pages 91–92.)
With everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer (3 Ne. 22:8).
… Marcia had moved several times in her young years as her father’s work required it. She was now ten years old and facing another new school. Marcia’s mother could see the concern on her daughter’s face and sat down with her to discuss what was bothering her.
Marcia talked about the challenge of joining classes at midterm and trying to get in step with the subject matter, teacher, and other students. Mother pledged her support to help Marcia make the adjustment. Then tears welled up in Marcia’s eyes. In all honesty, she shared with her mother, “I can overcome the difficulties with the academics and the new teachers. But Mother,” she said, with tears trickling down her freckled cheeks, “I just hate eating my lunch alone.” Marcia needed someone to recognize her situation and invite her to join a group and get acquainted.
Laura was someone who recognized a potentially awkward situation and did something to avoid it. She and Kate were best friends. The two of them included others in their circle of friends. A few of these girls planned a party, inviting all in the group except Kate. Laura, after becoming aware of what had happened, told the others that she would not be able to accept their invitation unless Kate was included. This kind, loyal act of a friend who followed the golden rule (see 3 Ne. 14:12) prevented pain and sorrow.
We become kind by doing kind things. The Apostle Paul said: “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you” (Eph. 4:32).
The Merrie Miss motto is I Will Follow God’s Plan for Me. God’s plan for us includes our being kind. My challenge to you is to search for opportunities to be kind. The promise is: you will be happy. I pray that each of us will develop a desire to be kind to others and to ourselves and continually act upon that desire.
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Mom, why do we have to pull these old weeds, anyway?” Vanessa whined, pushing back the hair from her sweaty forehead. “Weeds, weeds, weeds! It’s such a waste of time. They’ll just grow again next week, and I’ll have to pull them up all over again.” She stabbed the trowel into the dark brown soil for emphasis. Her mother smiled at eleven-year-old Vanessa’s impatience. “I wish that the garden plants would grow but not the weeds,” Vanessa said. “Wouldn’t that be easy?” “It would be easy,” Mom agreed, “but where’s the challenge? What could we learn from that?” “What do we learn now, except how to get bug bites, sunburn, and blisters?” “Actually you’ve learned a great deal. For example, you know that things must happen in proper order. We must plant seeds when and where they’ll be able to do their best,” Mom explained. “I wonder if Heavenly Father ‘plants’ our spirits in certain bodies, at certain times, in certain places, so that we can do our best?” Vanessa wondered aloud. “That’s an interesting thought. I’ve pondered things like that, too,” Mom said as she planted peas neatly in a row. “Maybe I had to be born to this particular family, in this place, at the exact time that I was born, in order for me to develop and reach my full potential,” Vanessa said thoughtfully. “OK, we do learn things from gardening,” she admitted. When she saw the triumphant look on her mother’s face, she added, “But I still don’t understand why we have to go to all this trouble to have homegrown vegetables. Store-bought ones are just as good if you ask me.” “A half hour a day isn’t much time to spend when you consider all the rewards,” Mom said. “By the end of the summer you’ll see what I mean.” Each day after school, Mom and Vanessa got on their gardening clothes and worked side by side in the garden. One afternoon in late spring they transplanted tomato seedlings. After working in silence for some time, Vanessa said, “Plants need sun, air, water, and nutrients from the soil. We need sun, air, water, and nutrients from food. Mom, would we die without the sun?” They talked for twenty minutes about the similarities and differences between plant needs and human needs. During other gardening sessions, Vanessa told her mother about school, her friends, her hopes and plans for the future, her worries and fears. She began to look forward to these talks. Sometimes while they gardened, Mom told Vanessa stories about what it was like to grow up on a farm. One day she said, “My mother used to tell me: ‘You reap what you sow. If you plant cucumber seeds, you get cucumber vines and cucumber blossoms, and, eventually, cucumbers. You’ll never get cauliflower from cucumber seeds. If we sow acts of kindness, we reap friendship and happiness.’ ” “But if we sow evil and unkindness, then we reap the consequences—unhappiness and sadness,” Vanessa added. They were silent for a few minutes before Vanessa asked, “It can take a long time to see the results of what you’ve sown, can’t it, Mom?” She was thinking of a girl who had started at their school before Christmas and was extremely shy. Vanessa had been nice to her, but it had taken until February to get the girl to respond. But Vanessa’s persistence paid off; the girls were now good friends. One day in June, after three days of rain, the weeds suddenly shot up tall. “We have to pluck out the bad plants so that the good ones won’t be robbed of the nutrients, moisture, and root space. Does that remind you of a scripture story?” Mom asked. “You mean when Christ will take all the wicked and burn them as stubble, and the good people won’t be bothered anymore by their evil influence?” “Good! You’ve been reading,” Mom said, nodding approvingly. “It also reminds me of the parable about the seed falling on the rocky soil, getting choked by weeds, or growing in good soil,” Vanessa continued. “We have to try to get sin out of our lives so that the seed of faith can grow in good soil within us.” “I think she’s got it!” said Mom, laughing along with her daughter. Once when Vanessa complained about all the work, Mom said, “It’s not much different from having neighbors or friends.” “I don’t see the connection,” said Vanessa. “If someone has a need, we serve them. Later, they—or someone else—may help us. Right now it’s our turn to help the vegetable plants. But in a few months, they’ll be serving us—on our dinner table!” In July there were two weeks with no rain. Vanessa’s arms became stronger and stronger from carrying buckets of water. She prayed for rain and hurried out early each morning to check the plants. When it finally did rain, she danced barefoot in the backyard. Late in the summer, Mom said, “Vanessa, have you noticed what a trim figure and lovely, healthy glow you have? It couldn’t possibly be from working in the garden, could it?” Her eyes twinkled merrily. Vanessa realized that her mother was right. She felt prettier, healthier, and stronger than she’d ever felt before. Mom’s right, she thought. You do get a lot from gardening—more than just vegetables. By the end of August the whole family was involved in canning and freezing the garden’s harvest. Still, there were more vegetables than they could possibly use. “Dad, wouldn’t someone at your work or one of our neighbors love a basket of fresh zucchini or tomatoes?” Vanessa suggested. They canned spaghetti sauce, and Vanessa could hardly wait to invite the new neighbors for dinner. When they arrived, Vanessa sat down with them and told them all the wonderful benefits of gardening. Mom winked at Dad as Vanessa enthusiastically added, “Tonight we’re having spaghetti with sauce made from our own vegetables. And salad and zucchini, all from our garden. Mmmm! You’ll love them. They’re lots better than store-bought vegetables!”
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Timothy stares down into the warm muddy water of the plastic bucket.
“What did we get?” Dad asks across the small fishing boat.
Timothy gives it a little swirl. “It looks like some more dragonfly nymphs, not much else.” He passes the bucket to Christopher, who, after a quick glance, passes it to Dad.
Dad takes the bucket and pours the water, mud, and nymphs into a plastic bag and places it in a big cooler. The cooler is the kind you might expect to be filled with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and soda pop, but this one is filled with samples of the insect life in the farm ponds of North Carolina.
Timothy (11) and Christopher (7) live with their family in the Raleigh First Ward, Raleigh North Carolina Stake. Today they are helping their father, a scientist who studies the insects that live in farm ponds.
“Insects in ponds? Underwater?” Both boys were surprised to learn that many animals that live on land also live underwater. There are insects and spiders that spend much of their life underwater. Some, such as the dragonfly, live part of their lives underwater as nymphs with gills before they become winged adults.
It’s hard work to help Dad take samples from the mud and plants of a pond. Timothy and Christopher start the day early. After family prayer, they and Dad load the pickup truck with a net, some special scientific equipment that will help them tell something about the water in which these insects live, and other supplies. When all is ready, the boys hop into the truck and wave good-bye to Mom and their two younger brothers, Jaron and Nathan.
On the way to the pond, the boys and their dad talk about the wonderful plants and animals that they are able to study and enjoy. Timothy wonders, however, why there are mosquitoes. “They only bite and hurt us—what good are they?”
“Do you remember the big bluegill fish you caught when we were fishing?” Dad asks.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with mosquitoes?”
“Well, when that fish was little, guess what it ate.”
“Mosquitoes?”
“Yes. If you look hard enough, you’ll find a reason all creatures were put on the earth, even the ones that annoy and bother us.”
Soon they arrive at the pond, which is about as big as a football field and is surrounded on one side by pines and on the other by fields of hay. Even though it is still early in the morning, it is already getting hot. Timothy and Christopher unload the truck and put everything into the boat that has already been put partially into the water. Then they get into the boat. Dad pushes it the rest of the way into the warm pond water and jumps inside.
“Timothy, please get the hummingbird out and tell us how deep the water is,” Dad requests.
The “hummingbird” isn’t really a bird at all. It’s a tool in a little box that tells them how deep the water is; it can also tell where fish are located. Timothy plugs its wires into the battery pack, then lowers a small black knob about the size of an apple into the water. He watches the screen and excitedly yells, “Nine feet!”
Dad rows the boat near the shore where there are thick patches of water plants. He gets out a sampling net and starts collecting the insects in the water. After he sweeps the net through the vegetation, he dumps whatever has been caught into a big bucket.
“What are you going to do with all these insects?” Christopher asks.
“They’ll help us know how healthy this pond is.”
“Healthy? Ponds can be healthy?”
“Yes, ponds can be healthy—or unhealthy.” When a pond is unhealthy—if it’s polluted for example—then certain kinds of insects die. By looking at the insects in it, you can tell if the pond is healthy or not.”
Dad stops the boat at several places along the shore to take more samples. Each time, one of the boys transfers the insects, water, and mud in the bucket to a plastic bag and places it in the cooler. Then it’s time to head for home.
On the way, Dad says, “We’ve just tested that pond to see if it was healthy. What if someone wanted to find out if our family were healthy? Just as I look at insects to get an idea about the health of a pond, what do you think someone might look for to see if our family was a healthy one?”
“You mean, if we are all sick or not?” Timothy asks.
“Not exactly. You see, the pond is healthy when all the plants and animals live in the balance that Jesus Christ created them to live in—there is enough food to eat and oxygen to breathe. In the same way, our family is healthy when it’s living the way Heavenly Father and Jesus want it to live.”
“Oh, I see—like if we all love each other?”
“Yes, that’s the most important sign of a healthy family. What else?”
Christopher puts in thoughtfully, “If we are doing the things the Lord has asked us to do.”
“Like what?” Dad raises his eyebrows encouragingly.
“Like having family prayer, family home evening, and personal prayer.”
Timothy adds, “Well, we read the Book of Mormon, and we try to follow the prophet.”
“So if a ‘spiritual scientist’ came to our house and saw that we were doing all these things, then he or she would decide we have a healthy family?”
Timothy and Christopher both nod.
“Do you think we have a healthy family?” Dad asks.
“Yup,” Timothy asserts.
“I think so, too,” Christopher agrees.
Dad gives them both a quick pat on the shoulder. “I think you’re right.”
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